


Kiss of Death

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Dating McCree (and constantly getting jumped) [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Language Kink, Smut, Strength Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, badly googled Spanish, dubious use of black mist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You get up close and personal with the Reaper</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss of Death

Oh yeah, you were definitely stuck.

Whatever was around your hands, you couldn’t shift them. No matter how hard you tugged, they wouldn’t move. Your gun was out of reach, lying on the floor ahead of you. You could just about see it in the dark, the moonlight glinting off it, and you bit your lip. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Where the hell did you leave Jesse? He’d been right behind you…

What the hell were you even stuck in, anyway? You couldn’t see well enough. You already wore black leather, so it must have been darker than your suit, but in the darkness nothing was certain. You hoped someone would come looking for you, and soon.

“I hadn’t expected this.”

The voice came from behind you. It didn’t belong to your favourite cowboy, and it sent ice skittering down your spine. Oh, you were dead. They were going to find your drained body hanging here when the night was over. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. You’d heard his voice rolling across the battlefield like an ominous fog way too many times.

“Shit,” you breathed. “Oh, god.”

“I set this trap for a different insect, but I got you instead. The ingrate’s little girlfriend,” the being muttered.

“You…this was for McCree?” you gasped, as Reaper drifted in front of you. The masked face turned to look at you.

“The hell would I want with the kid?” he snarled, black mist swirling around him. “No, no. I was after _Morrison_ , _idiota_.”

“Jack’s not dumb enough to come down dark alleys,” you told him, swallowing.

“But apparently, you are, _mosquita_ ,” he replied. You looked at the ebony fog wisping about him and worked out what was holding you. “Which means I have bait, or a catch, one or the other.”

“What’s…going to make the difference between the two?” you asked, watching the motionless figure.

“Be _useful_ , you’re bait. Be _interesting_ , you’re a catch,” he told you plainly, and you suddenly felt like you were being inspected.

“Oh, fuck you Reaper,” you spat. “I’m not luring other agents down here.”

“Then you’d better make yourself _interesting_ , _tonta_ ,” he said calmly. “Because if you don’t, I’m just going to kill you.”

“I’m not going to…to _perform_!” you protested, yanking on the mist binding you. “I’m an agent of Overwatch!”

“You’re a stuck little girl restrained at every limb,” Reaper growled. You stiffened at the sound. You felt a mixture of fear, and…other things, other things so _not_ fear you didn’t want to think about them.

“I’m not a little girl,” you hissed at him. The mask dipped, tilting up and down momentarily. Was he…ogling you?!

“No,” he rasped, “you’re very much not.”

Somehow you liked that even less than the idea of being bait.

And somehow, you found yourself liking it a _lot_.

“Don’t,” you snapped, but he was already moving forward, the mist restraining you stroking down over your forearms to hold you open, tighter. You struggled briefly until the mist began to suck at your leather suit, and then you were full-on writhing, moving and tugging as best you could to try and get out of the mist. You knew it was useless, you _knew_ , but the way Reaper was watching you, even with the mask, told you everything.

“I’m going to need you to shut up,” he said, as the black smoke slid across your face, snapping tight over your mouth as a gag would and muffling your cry of shock. “Can’t have the little cowboy coming after you.”

As his glove-covered hands reached for you, you dimly wondered if he was one for torture. You didn’t want to know, straining away from the talons as best you could, but you only had inches to move, and Reaper had all the space he needed. He grasped your face, the leather and metal cool against your skin, and you swallowed, hands tightening into fists.

“You’re new,” he murmured, releasing your face. A talon hooked into your zip, yanking it down your body to your navel. “New…and young.”

You bucked away from him, your eyes wide, and he came forward, his mask inches from your bared stomach.

“Well, this is…unexpected.” Talons grasped the black leather. “You continue to surprise me, agent.”

Your choice to go commando under your clothes was a direct side effect of McCree being pent-up after fights and finding helpful quiet spots to fuck you in, and after the fifth pair of panties he’d ruined you’d stopped wearing them.  Now, you were regretting every choice you made before this evening as Reaper ripped the leather off your body with one tug. A tremor ran through you.

His talons dug into your skin, just a little, enough to prick but not to draw blood, and you whimpered behind the black mist when he withdrew them. The thick fog rolled down your body, a feeling like cold hands running over you, and you couldn’t stop the way your hips jerked when the fingers of smoke found your nipples and caressed them.

“I can see why the boy likes you so much,” Reaper commented, sliding a gauntlet off his right hand. “Mmm. You’re…lively.”

His skin must have been dark once, you noted, but now it was pale and washed out, and the large hand that grasped your hip was as cool as the black shadows holding you in place. Through the slow haze of pleasure that clouded your mind with each cold stroke across your breasts, you wondered why Reaper kept referring to McCree like he knew him. Did he know him? You were pretty sure Jesse would have said something about it if he remembered.

“ _Quiero comerte_ ,” he growled, his palm sliding from hip to belly and down. A thumb pressed against your mound. You gasped, unable to pull away as he located your clit and began to rub in small circles. You could just about grit your teeth behind the gag, but your thighs were firmly held open and there was no closing them against his touch. A moment later he rotated his hand, pressing two large fingers against your opening and slowly working one of them inside. You weren’t very wet, not yet, but he slid the digit down to the knuckle, slow and steady as your brain lit up. There was just enough lubrication for it to start feeling pleasant, and you swallowed.

Reaper dropped to his knees as he stroked the lone finger in and out of you, watching you grind into the touch despite yourself. His skin was rough and calloused and it was driving you wild. A dark, nasty laugh left him, and you shivered at the sound. Coupled with the finger inside you, you were starting to get turned on.

“ _Hermosa_ ,” he murmured. “ _Hermosa, mosquita_. I should leave you hanging there when I’m done.”

His second finger worked itself inside of you and scissored slowly. You choked out a gasp as they pressed in to the knuckle and curled gently. The mist curved around your nipple, stroking like a tongue, as the being in front of you grasped the bottom of his mask with his free hand and pushed it up, just a little, and leaned towards your crotch. His breath was lukewarm, bordering on cold as he moved between your thighs, fingers still touching and pressing. You looked down at him and caught a glimpse of pale, full lips surrounded by a thick black beard. A moment later you were gazing at the sky, crying out behind your gag, as his tongue stroked over your clit.

Soft, repeated licks, each one with about a second between them, slow enough that you found yourself pushing against him for more. Reaper knew what he was doing, and he seemed determined to use his knowledge to drive you mad. His fingers sped up as his tongue began to curl in little circles, saliva cool in the night air and teasing nerves that only a cold, wet swipe could soothe. The mist touching you began to rub long, gentle fingertips down your breasts, over your stomach, parting around Reaper’s head like water against a rock.

You swallowed another cry as his fingers brushed something swollen and sensitive, determined not to let him get the better of you. But you knew you were going to lose, if you weren’t careful, you were going to beg, and as the mist curved across your inner thighs like large, strong palms, opening you up to Reaper’s questing fingers, you could already feel an orgasm growing, slow, rising like a wave.

“The new blood is so…different to the old guard,” he rasped, and your brow furrowed. “But your taste is good.”

He sucked softly on you and you yelped behind the mist gag, hips pressing into his face. Your head praised his skill and begged for completion even as you tried to process the fact that Reaper – _Reaper_ – was about to make you come. The mist gathered around his hand, coating his fingers, and slid inside of you. It was cold, hard, sucking at your walls until you began to writhe, rolling over your sweet spot until every muscle in your body was tensing for your climax, teetering on the edge.

“ _Grita para mi_ ,” the Reaper growled, and you fell, screaming desperately behind the gag as the mist formed around a nipple and sucked, man and smoke stimulating you until you couldn’t take it, collapsing in your bonds. The mask slid back over his face as he stood, but he reached beneath it to suck his fingers clean as the mist kept fucking you. It dripped out of you, flitting over your body, between your legs and over your ass. It carried your slick with it, pressing against the ring of muscle. You stiffened. “Don’t fight this, agent.”

“Fuck you,” you mumbled, muffled.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

The slick mist pushed slowly inside you as Reaper’s fingers pressed between your legs again, stroking your oversensitive nub. In your desperation to get away from that cool, torturing touch you pushed your rear back against the mist. The Reaper gave you that laugh, the dirty sound that had you clenching your teeth. A moment later, he split into two clouds of black shadow and sped past you, alighting at your back. You could feel the cold metal press of the ammo shells between your shoulders, and his gloved hand slid against your stomach.

It was a weak distraction from the mist that was sliding in and out of your ass, but when he reached between your legs again you couldn’t stop the moan that left you. Whoever he’d been, whoever he was, Reaper knew how to rile you up. And you couldn’t help trying to ride his hand as it parted your folds, soaking his fingers in your wetness. His gloved hand disappeared, and you heard a zip being pulled.

A gasp left you.

You’d forgotten, in the haze of orgasm, that Reaper still had his urges.

His slick-coated fingers slid out of you and something cool and soft and hard pushed against your backside. Was he going to…oh god, he was. His gauntlet-covered palm held your ass open as the head of his cock pushed against the slick opening that the mist had prepped for him. You clenched your teeth, but he stroked your nub again and again until you relaxed, a whimper leaving you.

“There’s no point fighting me,” he growled.

The mist skirted down your body and rolled over your thighs, swiping against your slick opening. It flowed into you, solidifying, pressing against your walls until you were whining in pleasure. As the mist began to fuck you, Reaper slid inside your ass and snarled at the feeling of you tight around him.

“Your little boyfriend is not going to match up to this,” he rasped, hips meeting your ass as he and the mist pushed into you. The black smoke dripped with your wetness as Reaper stroked your nub. You could hear him breathing behind you, uneven and ragged, the sensation of him inside you alien and not unpleasant. The mist had been thorough in working you, and his slow, rough canting made you moan in pleasure, not pain. The mist was expanding and contracting inside you, circling against your inner walls and slowly stroking against your sweet spot.

You strained against the mist with each thrust, a drop of sweat running down your neck and between your breasts. The cold metal of his mask pressed against your neck, and he left your clit to nudge it upwards and expose his lips, his cold tongue sweeping up your neck. Without the mask, his voice wasn’t distorted and you listened to the deep, measured gasps that left him, a soft, choked sound forcing its way out when his fingers stroked your nub and you bucked against him at the touch.

His teeth nipped at your neck, beard scratching your skin as he took you harder, his strong arm locking around your body, palming a breast, whimpers dropping from your lips as the mist buzzed slightly. You wished you could cry out but your gag stopped you, muffling you as the Reaper took you. He must be near his limit, he _must_ be, because you were fast approaching another orgasm and there was no way his increase in pace had been anything other than him seeking his own end. His fingers slid around your throat, just shy of any real pressure but an excellent reminder of his presence.

Yeah.

Like the mist fucking you senseless and the man fucking your ass wasn’t enough.

The strokes against your nub were building into hot, twisting tension that was amplified by the solidified mist, your thighs tensing as the pleasure started to overwhelm you. It wasn’t kind, warm, rolling over you like water – it was sharp slashes of delight that rocked you, pressing you against the cold body behind you.

“Don’t fight it,” he growled, and bit you, and you screamed behind the gag as your orgasm forced you down under its strength, muscles giving out and shoving your back against Reaper’s chest as he kept fingering. You could feel him twitching, his gasps deeper and sharper as he got closer. You clenched up viciously around him and your opponent surged into you with a yell of pleasure as his cool cock jerked and spurted into your ass, his hips fucking you until the sensation became too much for him. His fingers abandoned you, and he stepped away, panting. A moment later, he split into mist, and landed in front of you, mask fully in place.

“I should shoot you now,” the man rasped, his head tilting. “But I don’t think I want to.” He twitched a hand and the mist finally pulled out of you. You groaned as it left, panting, and your gag dissipated. “Give my regards to the ingrate boy, agent. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

Your brain was scrambling to function as the Talon operative disappeared in a cloud of black fog. He kept mentioning McCree like he knew him. He talked about Overwatch like he’d been there. You had questions for 76 and McCree.

Well.

When you got free of this trap.

Apparently, Reaper leaving wasn’t going to spring you.

“Voice activate comms unit,” you sighed.

 _“Comms online. Three missed calls from: Agent McCree,”_ Athena told you.

“Open comm-link with Agent McCree,” you ordered.

_“Connection established.”_

“McCree?” you called.

 _“The hell have you been?”_ he asked, and you could hear the worry in his voice.

“I’m…a little stuck. Can you get my co-ordinates?” you admitted.

 _“Downloading now. You better not be hurt, darlin’,”_ he warned. _“Otherwise I’m going to hunt down whoever did it.”_

“Yeah, well, I got questions for you,” you muttered.

_“Fuckin’ same, sweetheart. You don’t disappear off the map for twenty minutes without raisin’ a man’s concerns.”_

“Just come find me, cowboy,” you sighed.

 _“Will do. Don’t you move,”_ he said, and the link closed. You chuckled.

“God, do I wish,” you murmured. And then-

_20 minutes?!_

**Author's Note:**

> idiota - idiot  
> tonta - fool  
> moscita - little fly  
> Quiero comerte - I want to devour you  
> Hermosa - Beautiful  
> Grita para mi - Scream for me


End file.
